Over the past few weeks, life had been good.

Moran had found his purpose within the village.

He was the one who fixed things up.

The tinkerer if it came to inventing or the nurse with people.

With the elders permission, he’d overhauled how the Shapeless built and transported materials, replacing their cumbersome reliance on Heartbearers with something more efficient, and honestly far cooler.

A crane of his own design.

Before Moran’s invention, the Shapeless had to deploy multiple Heartbearers to haul heavy materials up to construction sites.

It was grueling, time-consuming work, and a waste of Hearbearer that were in high demand.

Moran's solution was a towering contraption powered by the strange properties of the Hungry-Ocean-Water.

The core of his crane was a massive hollowed-out tree trunk.

To create it, Moran used his cube to burn into the wood with precise, controlled heat. It only took him three days to get it right and he had only reduced a dozen trees to cinders.

The charred insides were then treated by a Heartbearer whose gift allowed them to breathe iron mist.

The mist settled along the inner walls, forming a smooth metallic layer that prevented any leaks once the trunk was filled with fluid.

At first, Moran intended to use the Hungry-Ocean-Water's as a counterweight, because of it's high density.

The plan had been simple: fill a sealed container with the water, let it sink, and use its downward force to pull materials upward.

Afterwards evaporate the water, thus loose the weight and send it back up to condensate again to repeat the process

During his experiments however, Moran had discovered something extraordinary, completely changing his plans.

The water didn’t just sink due to its weight.

It actively dragged everything submerged in it downward, regardless of density, weight or shape.

Wood, stone, even a jar filled with air just sailed right down.

Leveraging this strange property, Moran constructed a crane around the hollowed tree.

Inside the tree was a reservoir of Hungry-Ocean-Water.

At the top, a pulley system threaded a long rope attached to a cluster of wooden logs.

These logs were lowered into the reservoir, where they were immediately pulled down with immense force, dragging the rope with them.

The other end of the rope was connected to a wide platform, roughly two meters across, designed to carry materials.

As the logs sank into the water, the platform rose smoothly, carrying its load of supplies to the top.

Once the platform reached its peak, the system reset: the logs were extracted from the reservoir through a clever mechanism involving an angled track and counterweights.

Workers would retrieve the logs, reset them on the platform below, and the process would repeat.

The stark difference in weight between the logs in and out of the water made the system remarkably efficient.

Materials that previously required hours of work by the Heartbearers, now traveled upward with minimal effort.

Of course Moran also equipped the whole thing with a few hoist's and bound the rope into a pulley, but that was besides the point.

The whole thing took two weeks of efford, three if one accounted for planning and experimenting with the water, but once it stood, it wasw worth the efford.

At least in Moran's opinion.

The next project on Moran’s list was figuring out how to make bathing more convenient.

Since his first, less-than-stellar experience with the village's bathing arrangements, he hadn’t been willing to repeat it.

Instead, he’d resorted to hauling a heavy iron pot filled with water to his hut every morning, heating it over a fire, and scrubbing himself clean with a wet rag.

It worked well enough, but the routine was tedious, and Moran wasn’t about to spend the rest of his life, or however long he’d be living here, dragging that massive pot back and forth every morning.

He already had an idea how he would go about it. The properties of the water and his cube opened up options he wouldn't have thought possible otherwise.

But those were plans for another day, or rather an other week.

After all, he’d been more than productive over the last two weeks.

In his opinion, a well-deserved one-day break was a fair reward for all his hard work.

Lazily strolling through the village, Moran greeted the few Shapeless whose names he’d already managed to learn.

Food in hand, he eventually made his way to the usual spot, where the person he knew best was already waiting.

“Hey, Moran!” Kai called, sitting up straighter. The younger man was perched on the fence, halfway through stuffing his face.

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Moran plopped onto the fence beside him with a theatrical sigh. “Couldn’t wait for me? No manners at all…” He shook his head in exaggeration, supressing a grin.

“Mmmhhmm, whm agreed to mhhhth twen minuts ago,” Kai replied, speaking through a mouthful of food.

Moran raised an eyebrow as he unwrapped his own meal. Today's course was a chicken-like creature’s egg, boiled and stuffed back into the cooked body of the same creature.

A little disturbing when he thought about it too hard, but undeniably delicious, as he’d learned by simply biting into it.

The Shapeless diet seemed to revolve around a lot of meat and greens, often cooked in some surprisingly clever ways.

Ogmar was an artist when it came to cooking.

Her dishes drew moans of joy out of everyone...or dread, depending on whether you were eating them or one of the unfortunate creatures that found itself on her menu.

Which, as far as Moran could tell, included pretty much every beast in the forest.

“Guess that’s on me, then,” Moran muttered around equally full cheeks, chewing noisily. If Kai could talk with his mouth full, why shouldn’t he?

“Telling time’s pretty hard when it’s always night,” Moran added once he had swallowed.

"How can you tell?"

Kai shrugged. “We just kinda feel it.”

"Hmh," Moran groaned sarcastically. "Good thing I am not blessed with that talent, so you can always claim I am late, instead of apologizing for starting to eat too early."

Kai smiled. "That was the idea. No but seriously, you really can't tell?"

Moran shook his head. "Nope. How do you know? Is it lik a sixth sense?"

“Nah. More like, you wake up, do stuff for a while, look around at everyone else, and think, ‘Yep, that seems about right.’”

Now that that topic was finished Mroan moved onto the other thing that was interesting. “What’s with the bruises? Been picking fights with beasts again?”

Kai snorted. “Close. Groll. The man really doesn’t hold back.” He tilted his head to one side, revealing even more faint marks running down his neck.

“Yikes. Groll's ‘taking it easy’ on you looks suspiciously like attempted murder.”

Moran gestured vaguely toward Kai’s neck.

Kai laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's not it. I just think he doesn't really know how frigging strong he is. Besides look at this!"

He pointed at his head.

The short black strands began to wobble, flowing like he was under water, then grew longer and longer.

He raised his hand, and part of the strange mass gathered into a small, dark ball hovering above his palm.

With a flick of his wrist, Kai turned his hand so the ooze hovered unsupported.

It dripped to the ground, burning a hole straight into the dirt where it landed.

Moran blinked, recognizing the substance.

“Okay, that’s... mildly terrifying,” he admitted.

"But pretty impressive," he added once he saw Kai's eyes brimming with pride.

Kai beamed, his pride practically radiating off him.

“Right? Who cares if Groll gets a little rough if it means I can progress at this speed? At this rate, I might unlock Halfshape before the next Beheartening!”

Moran snorted softly, wiping his hands on his coat. “Big words for someone who was half-dead a couple of weeks ago. Don’t get coky on me now.”

Kai smirked, hopping off the fence. “Guess we’ll see. Anyway, I’ve got an appointnent with Groll. Got to work towards this Halfshape. See you around, Moran!”

With that, he bolted off, leaving Moran to shake his head at the man's boundless energy.

He chuckled softly. Never had he seen someone so eager for another beating.

Moran stood up, licked his fingers clean and whiped his mouth.

He strode back the same paths he had taken here, streaching as he walked towards his hut.

But halfway there, he spotted someone waiting for him.

Lira leaned casually against the trunk of a tree, her fists resting on her hips, with a bundle of clothes tucked under one arm.

She wore a wide-fitting white tunic, cinched at the waist with a fabric belt tied in a knot—almost like some kind of ceremonial warrior’s outfit, but with a fantasy twist.

Her fiery, feather-like hair fluttered despite the still air, giving it the illusion of fire dancing in motion.

“Finally,” she called as he approached, her voice dripping with impatience.

She pushed herself off the tree and fixed him with a look that somehow managed to say you’re to blame for every inconvenience in my life.

Before he could respond, she hurled the bundle of clothes at him with surprising precision.

“These are yours. Kai was supposed to bring them, but that brother of mine completely forgot. Figures.”

Her tone was an odd mix of irritation, pride, and accusation, though Moran couldn’t quite tell who or what it was aimed at—Kai, the clothes, or him.

He fumbled the bundle, nearly dropping it before he managed to secure it in his arms.

“Thanks... I think,” he said, glancing at the neatly folded garments.

Lira scoffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, no problem. Just don’t wreck them in a day. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

Moran smirked, cutting her off. “What, you’re off to training with Groll too?”

She stopped mid-turn and shot him a sharp look, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. Moran held up a hand as if to defend himself.

“I saw you and Kai training yesterday, and he just ran off for another session. Thought you might be heading there too.”

“Y-yeah,” she muttered, suddenly looking anywhere but at him.

“You don’t like training?” he asked, tilting his head. “Kai seems to love it. He’s practically skipping there.”

Her expression froze for a split second before she spun around, avoiding his gaze entirely.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” she said, her voice taking on a stiff, wooden quality. “Dig every second of it. So fun. Can’t stop laughing.”

Moran raised an eyebrow, unsure what had triggered the sarcasm.

Before he could press further, she waved him off dismissively.

“Anyway, I’m done here. Enjoy your clothes or whatever. Try not to get anyone killed. Ciao.”

Without waiting for a reply, she strode off, her feathered hair bouncing with each step.

Moran stood there for a moment, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

“Cheerful as always,” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head and continuing toward his hut.

The small, 2x2-meter shack had been a sorry sight when he first arrived, a crude structure of dried mud with nothing but a rough hay-and-wood bed and a lopsided clay table.

But over the past few weeks, he’d turned it into something that almost felt like home.

The first improvement had been reinforcing the walls.

Moran had painstakingly layered the mud with a mix of clay and plant fibers, which he’d hardened using his cube.

The result was a more stable, less drafty structure that didn’t feel like it would collapse in a stiff breeze.

Next came the roof. He’d swapped the haphazard patchwork of leaves and sticks for actual planks, salvaged and smoothed with help from Kai.

It still leaked when it rained, but much less than before, a victory in his book.

Inside, he’d built shelves along one wall using baked clay and spare wood, organizing the random trinkets and materials he’d been hoarding for his experiments.

He even managed to scavenge a second-hand stool from the village, though it wobbled like crazy.

The final touch was the lighting.

With no windows and the eternal night outside, the hut had been pitch black once the door closed.

Moran had fixed that by rigging up simple oil lamps from hollowed gourds and animal fat.

They weren’t perfect, but they bathed the space in a warm, flickering glow that made it feel... cozy.

Moran closed the door behind him, taking in his handiwork with a satisfied sigh.

It wasn’t luxury by any means, but it was his.

This place, the quiet, the warmth, the odd sense of accomplishment he felt whenever he looked at the improvements, made him happier than he’d been in... well, longer than he could remember.

He dropped the bundle of clothes on the bed, stretching as he ran a hand through his hair.

Not bad for someone who almost drowned first thing after arriving here.

He was about to sit down when a faint sound caught his attention.

A scratch.

It was subtle, just barely audible over the creak of the stool and the soft hiss of the oil lamp.

He froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

The scratch came again, louder this time. It was behind him.

He turned halfway, his body tense, when a sudden, sharp pain pierced through his chest.

His breath hitched as he looked down, eyes wide.

A thin, impossibly long rod had burst through his torso, gleaming faintly in the lamplight.

Moran gasped, the edges of his vision blurring as he tried to process what had just happened. The pain was blinding, his knees buckling as his hands clawed weakly at the metal.

Darkness began to creep in around the edges of his sight, the world tilting as he collapsed forward.

And then, silence.